


Hideaway

by Lapin



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, First Time, Library, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4426028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapin/pseuds/Lapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one is thinking much about the Library as Erebor is being rebuilt, no one but Ori.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hideaway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trisarahtopsmuffins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trisarahtopsmuffins/gifts).



> Haha, the first Patreon fic to be posted, this one is for Trisarahtopsmuffins! Title is "Hideaway" based on the song of the same name, only I kind of like the Neon Jungle cover more than the original.

Ori has never minded being short, not really. 

Except when he does. 

His fingers can only just brush the spine of the book he's reaching for, not enough he can wriggle it free and actually get it into his hands. He doesn't really want to have to put his other books down and climb up the shelves either, because if he gets any more dust and grime on his clothes, Dori will get that awful look on his face he gets when Nori and Ori are dirty. 

He wishes cleaning the Library was a priority in the rebuilding. Books don't really fill bellies though, so he can't say he truly blames anyone, it's just that this is their history and it's in danger of crumbling away. Ori doesn't see how that's not important as well. 

“Which one are you trying to get?” 

Ori starts and nearly drops everything, turning around with the books clutched to his chest protectively. It's only Fíli though, looking down at Ori with his head tilted to the side a bit, smiling at the reaction he's gotten, because he and Kíli can be such gits sometimes. “Don't do that!” He shifts the books in his hands, trying to find a comfortable angle, but one of them is just a bit too wide for him to hold without it digging in to the inside of his arms. “I don't know why you and Kíli always have to do that to me.” 

“What do you want me to do, wear a bell like a cat? In any case, the mines could explode, and you'd hardly notice.” He reaches up and easily grabs the book Ori had been trying to get, placing it on the table Ori had managed to successfully clean and secure for his work of sorting through the many books. “I've been looking for you since midday. You cannot just wander off without telling anyone, not with so many areas still unstable. You don't have any stone-sense.” 

“I do too!” It's a sore subject between them all. Gimli, the youngest, had better stone-sense than the three of them combined, despite being over ten years younger than Ori, and while Kíli's is stronger in his hands, neither of the brothers is ever unsure of his footing. Ori, on the other hand, only has it in his hands, like his own brothers. And while it's not very strong, he _does_ have it. “Enough I can feel my way around just fine.” But not enough he can feel someone approaching. Thus Fíli, Kíli, and everyone else's favourite game of sneaking up on Ori. 

This is likely Fíli's point, that someone can easily sneak up on Ori, but the insult still stands.

Fíli shrugs with his good shoulder, and without asking, takes the books from Ori's hands, setting them down on the table beside the other one. Ori knows what he's really after now, so he opens one of the books and does his very best not to give in when Fíli wraps an arm around Ori's middle and presses his mouth against the back of Ori's neck. 

“I'm busy,” Ori protests, still stinging over the whole thing. “And aren't you supposed to still be injured?” 

“I am in terrible pain,” Fíli agrees, kissing another spot on Ori's neck, his braids tickling Ori's skin. “But not so terrible I haven't noticed you avoiding the main areas.” 

“I'm not,” Ori argues, even though he is. There's a nest of blankets and furs in the corner beside his cleared table to attest to how much time he's been spending in here. “There's just a lot to do, you know, and I'm just in the way there. Or would you rather I spend every moment of the day fussing over you?” 

Fíli releases him, but stays close, leaning against the table. “No. But I would rather not spend the whole day wondering where you are either.” He brushes Ori's face with his fingers. “I want to see you during the day. I feel better when I see you.” 

Ori opens another book, then shuts it again and traces the dusty leather embossing on it, finding the pattern someone etched in before Ori was even born. He still doesn't quite manage to fight away the smile that forms at Fíli's words, but he does give it a good try. “It's not really hurting, is it?” He gives in and touches Fíli's shoulder, where the largest wound is. “Óin said it wasn't too bad anymore.” 

“Itches a lot,” Fíli replies, shrugging again, still careful to only hitch one shoulder. It does hurt then. “I don't like you hiding. You'll make me think you don't like me anymore.” 

He's only teasing, but Ori still kisses him, careful of where he puts his own hands so he doesn't hit anywhere Fíli is still healing. It's still a little awkward, Ori not quite used to kissing someone taller than him, and not at all used to kissing Fíli. That isn't to say it's not nice. It's always nice. Maybe not so very nice the first time when it had been more of a surprise for both of them and they'd both still been bloody and dirty from the battle. Ori had just been so grateful to see Fíli alive and walking, if not hurt, he hadn't had a second thought about cupping his face and finally kissing him.

The moment had been broken when Kíli had asked, “Do I get a kiss too?” and then Ori had reeled back while Fíli stared at him before grabbing Ori's hand and pressing his mouth to the inside of Ori's wrist, right over his heartbeat. 

“I still like you,” Ori says quietly, catching at the end of one of Fíli's moustache braids, rubbing the cold metal bead between his fingers. He does still like Fíli. It would be stupid to ever try and claim otherwise. He's felt this way about Fíli for a long time now, the warm comfort of just being close to him or the way his heart flutters and he can't quite find words sometimes. “Did you need something?” 

“Just wanted to see you. Make sure you hadn't gotten lost in here, or been stolen away by one of Dáin's soldiers.” He's got his arm around Ori now, keeping Ori close to his own body, not that Ori minds. The way things are, they don't really get to be alone like this very much. Fíli has a lot to do with Thorin still recovering, and there's usually someone else around demanding his attention. 

It's not that Ori minds that, not really. Fíli's always had a lot of responsibilities. But there's been a few times where they were close, touching even, just what they could get away with in public, and Ori had been more upset than he had the right to be to have to share Fíli with whoever decided they needed him right that moment. 

There's no one else in here right now, though. No one to interrupt. And neither of them are bloody or wounded or dirty or exhausted, like they have been before. “Can you stay in here, for a little while? Or does Thorin need you back?” 

“Kíli's turn today,” Fíli says, burying his face in the crook of Ori's neck. “Told him I needed to take care of some things.” One of his hands is finding its way down Ori's back, and they've never had a chance to be close quite like this, even if Ori's thought about it. Apparently Fíli has too. “So neither of us need to be anywhere, and we're all alone.”

The books Ori was so determined to get down from the shelf can wait until tomorrow, he decides. Ori sinks his fingers into Fíli's hair instead, trying to be gentle so he doesn't catch at his braids by accident, tipping his head back a little so Fíli would keep kissing his neck. 

Everything feels new still, new and absolutely impossible, because it all seems to be going right for them. There's no footsteps coming, no one even looking for them hopefully, and they can just stay right here with one another. 

“I've been waiting forever to kiss you,” Fíli says, right before he does.

“You were?” Maybe Ori had known that, that Fíli felt something for him too, but Ori hadn't been brave enough to say anything, still waiting for some sort of confirmation before declaring himself, a way to be sure he wasn't going to humiliate himself and ruin their friendship. There hadn't been any, though, nothing he could pinpoint with absolute surety. Just the way Fíli looked at him sometimes, the way he'd always find Ori in a room and stay close to him. The way he always wrote when he was away from the settlement. “Why didn't you?” 

“I wasn't sure.” They're not quite kissing, but they're too entwined to deny they were up to something if anyone sees them. “I wasn't sure if it was me you cared for, or Kíli. I was almost sure it was me, but I didn't want to risk scaring you off and losing you entirely.” He has his eyes closed, and Ori is just peeking through his eyelashes, just enough he can make out the differences between the darker and lighter strands of hair in Fíli's beard and moustache and catch the little flashes of light on his beads. “I'm so glad it's me.” 

“It was always you,” Ori confesses, feeling the way he flushes. “Do you remember, the time you and Kíli went with your uncle all the way to Bree? And you were gone for almost a year?” 

Fíli's hand slips under Ori's shirt and touches the bare skin of his lower back, the feeling like little sparks of fire up his spine. “And you wrote me almost every week of what was going on? I spent forever trying to find all those different flowers and leaves to press and send to you. I was trying so hard to make you happy.” 

He had made Ori happy, even if his pressings hadn't been very good at first, most of the flowers and leaves in question so much crumbled up dust by the time they got to Ered Luin. But the idea had been sweet, and Ori had been so far gone by then, nothing had made him happier than knowing Fíli was thinking of him. “You did. But I didn't realise until I saw you again that I really was in love with you.”

Ori didn't mean to say that. 

Fíli is looking at him now, his eyes wide and very blue and Ori doesn't know if he wants to run away or not. He thinks he wants to run away, because oh, he really hadn't meant to say that out loud. 

“You're in love with me?” Fíli asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. Instead he kisses Ori, quick and light, then presses their temples together and his hand is still under Ori's shirt, his fingers pressing into Ori's skin. “You're really in love with me?” 

It shouldn't be such an easy question, but it is. Everyone had always told Ori he would understand when it happened, that it couldn't be put in words, and he'd always hated hearing it until the first winter snows had started that year and he'd hurried down to the gates every day, waiting. Waiting and waiting until finally, he saw the three figures on ponies amongst a few others returning home, and he'd made out the bright golden hair that marked Fíli. He hadn't even been able to wait until they got to the gates, instead rushing out to meet them halfway.

He'd embraced Kíli first, his friend swinging off his pony to say hello to Ori and yank him into a hug. It was when he embraced Fíli though, and felt the warm relief and joy and comfort of just being near him, that he knew for himself. 

“Yes,” he says, because he is. He's in love with Fíli, and has been for a long time now. The words are so big, but he says them anyway, says, “I love you.” And then, because he's still not quite sure, “Is that all right?” 

Fíli laughs, and the hand under Ori's shirt travels up Ori's spine, then down again, slowly, and the way Ori feels is very far from proper, and if anyone sees, they're in so much trouble. He feels absolutely wonderful against Ori, feels like everything he wants in this world. “I love you, too,” Fíli says, and still sounds as though he's laughing, because he's Fíli, and Ori loves him, loves how easily he laughs and how he makes everything bright and warm and better. “When we were in Bree, Kíli used to steal the post and try and hide your letters until I had to thrash him for them. Or buy his drinks. He knew what they meant to me, even then.” 

He loves Ori back. Ori loves him, and Fíli loves Ori. 

And they're alone.

He's seen Fíli without a shirt before, of course, along the journey. But it's a lot better when it's just them and he can touch Fíli, trace his collarbones and drag the tips of his fingers through the hair on his chest and over his tattoos. He's warm, his skin giving in hardly at all before Ori feels muscle and bone. He counts Fíli's ribs with the tips of his fingers while they kiss, Fíli already working Ori's shirt up and helping him get it off. 

There's something thrilling in the way it feels to touch his skin to Fíli's and feel Fíli's arms around him. “Is your shoulder all right?” he asks, careful of the bandage. 

“I'll endure somehow,” Fíli answers, his mouth on Ori's collarbone. He can't go very far, not with Ori perched in his lap the way he is, but his mouth feels wonderful anywhere on Ori. “Forgot it was even there.” He bites at the skin, and Ori starts and tries not to embarrass himself. “Just want to be with you.” 

Ori reaches for the laces of Fíli's trousers, his hands only shaking a little, and Fíli helps. “Just wait,” Ori whispers, even though they're alone. “Hold on.” He has oil, plain, thick stuff he's been using to clean the books, amongst other things. He grabs it off the table, trying not to laugh as he climbs back in Fíli's lap and Fíli undoes Ori's own laces. 

It's a little funny, being touched by someone else, but it's so lovely too, and so perfect to be able to touch Fíli this way, to kiss him and clutch at him. It's new, not as new as it could be, but everything feels so much better with Fíli, the way their bodies meet and move together, the way Fíli keeps kissing everywhere he can, and whispering how beautiful Ori is, how perfect, “Never want to stop,” he hisses, “want to find a bed and have you every way I can, you have no idea -”

“I do,” because he does, Ori does understand completely right now, and it's over for him, but Fíli is still hard against his belly, so Ori takes him hand and lets Fíli run his hands everywhere over Ori. The nails of his free hand are scratching at Fíli's good shoulder, Fíli's mouth against Ori's jaw, right as Fíli finishes as well. 

He's not aware of anything at all but Fíli and himself for however long after, both of them breathing hard, their skin cooling and Ori's knees aching on the stone floor, even with the furs and blankets he's been sleeping in beneath him. He has to get off of Fíli, but Fíli doesn't let him go far, not that Ori meant to. 

“Maybe,” Fíli whispers into Ori's ear, his mouth brushing the shell, “you should stay in here after all. Because every time I see you now, that's all I'm going to think of.” 

Ori muffles his laughter against Fíli's mouth, and slowly, somehow, Fíli ends up braced on top of him, and slowly, Ori's laughter quiets. 

The books end up waiting on the table until well into the next day, but Ori supposes they weren't going to get that much dustier in that little bit of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Want a fic of your very own? You're in luck, I'm having a fire sale!   
> Everything is explained in this post on my Tumblr. There's nothing offensive or triggering (i don't think, tell me if there is), no screamers or anything awful, I swear! [Here](http://themarchrabbit.tumblr.com/post/123620554414/marchs-day)
> 
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End file.
